Jasper County Democrat, Volume 12, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 June 1909 — THE MAN FROM HOME A NOVELIZATION OF THE PLAY OF THE SAME NAME [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE MAN FROM HOME A NOVELIZATION OF THE PLAY OF THE SAME NAME

BY BOOTH TARKINGTON AND HARRY L. WILSON

This romance deala with a curious admixture of American plainness and European high life; with a young Indiana girl dazzled by a title and in the clutches of a quartet of sharpers headed by an impecunious British peer; with the girl's Anglomaniac brother, a Russian noble in disguise, an escaped Russian convict and a faithless wife, and, most important of all, with the girl's shrewd, witty, courageous, resourceful guardian, Daniel Voorhees Pike of Kokomo. Daniel loves the Indiana girl and is determined to save her from the sharpers even against her own will. Read and you will learn how Daniel, with but a single friend to aid him, faced a most difficult dilemma and why he figured so prominently in an internaiional romance in which heraldry was more important than hearts and cupidity far more conspicuous than Cupid.

CHAPTER L “IT’S A GIBI.!’*

ITW2US ■ ■ the office in the Central Bank building, the gaunt young man with the stern features and the kindly gray eyes that always seemed a perpetual rebuke to the face In which they Were set ruminated over the letter he held in his hand. His back was to the door—a half glass door which was also the main and only entrance to the room and which bore upon its translucent surface in ragged letters, worn by the polishing the glass had undergone. the words, “Daniel Voorhees Pike, Attorney at Law.” Pike himself had a queer twist of feature, a sort of whimsicality that pervaded the very atmosphere about him, and the smile with which he regarded the letter he held had a world of reminiscence and sadness in it. As he gazed at it the letter seemed to fade into nothingness, and In Its place there rose the picture of a day years before, a day that caused the dingy walls of the office to become tenuous and gauzy, and through the gauze he seemed to see another office—a ramshackle sort of place, with a tin sign showing through the window which Informed the passerby that real estate was the commodity dispensed within. To Pike the picture grew yet more distinct, and in the broken bottom cane chair he saw the figure of a heavy faced man in his shirt sleeves engaged In smoking a corncob pipe. In another corner of the room he could see a red beaded boy poring over a pine table, laboriously copying in a round hand some title deeds. Then, through the reaches of the past, he seemed to hear the heavy faced man remove the pipe from his mouth and heard him speak. “Dan,” he said, “It’s a girir And he heard the gasp the boy gave forth as he turned about on his stool

and looked with startled eyes Into the kindly blue ones that glimmered Into his own. “A—girl!” he seemed to hear the boy say. “A little girl, Mr. Simpson?" In his fancy he saw the big man nod, saw him place the pipe back in his teeth and extend his two palms until they were a foot or so apart “A girl, Dan,” he heard, “’bout so tong, Dan, and purtier than all get out. An’ she’s goto’ to be a big responsibility, my boy. We’ll have to sell a heap of lots to pay what she’s goto’ to cest, Dan—a whole heap of lots.” ' And gradually the picture seemed to fade away, and, like a dissolving view. Its place was taken by another—the picture of a half timbered house that stood back among some trees at the corner of Main and Center streets. He could see the worn steps leading up to the veranda and himself approaching half fearfully along the gravel walk that led in from the rusty gate. On the veranda sat the big man with the heavy features and the corncob pipe, and he heard the voice again bidding him comp no. And_Jheh there

was a call to some one within, and a woman emerged with a white bundle In her arms. “Show her to Dan,” he heard the man’s voice say, and then, when the woman had removed a bit of the flannel covering from the little face and he had looked upon it, startled, abashed and marvelously choking as to the throat, the big voice went on again: “She’s going to be Ethel, Dan, that bundle of infancy. And maybe some of these days she’ll be getting herself in a tight place, and it’s going to be up to you, Dan, to help her out, and you’re going to promise me that you’ll do it, boy. Horace, the other kid, he’ll grow up maybe to have sense, and he’ll look out for himself, but It’s a tough place for girls, Dan—a mighty tough place.” He could almost hear the hushed voice in which the boy had given the j/xvxiimv a»*u Ixatr ftWC Willi which he heard that the newest atom of humanity to arrive was already motherless, and then the picture faded again. Then came a succession of similar views. He saw the dingy real estate office grow into a respectable brick building, and then into a handsome stone edifice, and the heavy featured man turn grayer and grayer and more somber and more hardworking, and he could remember the day when the tiny Ethel was brought to the office for the first time and of the manner in which she began to grow up. He recalled the day when she reached the mature age of twelve and of how he had presented to her a Bible for a gift and of the manner in which he had blushed for all his twenty-five years.

“I guess I’ll take a trip across the water” replied Pike dreamily. "Always ‘wanted to see those foreign parts, those Venices and Romes and Londons. Must be a queer tribe over there, Tom. Not much like us plain folks here, eh? Lots of high and mighty dukes and earls and things and coats of arms and crowns and coaches with whjte horses, eh?” Tom Perkins sat down In a chair with d gasp of astonishment. He stared at his friend with frank amazement written on his face and opened his mouth twice before his Ups formed the words. “Europe!” he said at last. “Europe,” he replied. “Say, Tom, you remember Jim Cooley? They sent Jim over there, didn’t they? Made him vice consul or something over in London? I’d maybe get a chance to see Jim and talk to him about—about old times.” His voice died down, and he regarded the wall again. “Never happened to hear of folks over there of the name of—of Hawcastle, did you, Tom?” he went on. "I don’t know what sort of business they are in, but I guess they’re well to do. Never happened to hear of them, eh?” Perkins shook his head, and Pike went on-:. “Maybe I’ll write to Jim Cooley and ask him about these people. Jim’d be likely to know ’em, I guess. Vice consul must be a .pretty big bug over there.” “Law case?” asked Perkins suddenly. “Sort of,” answered Pike quietly. “I don’t know that I’d call It just that. Perhaps the trip would be a change

And then he recalled the day when John Simpson had confided to him that the “kids” were to be given advantages and were to be sent abroad to school. There came a blank after that, but he recalled as if it had been but yesterday the feeling with which he had gone off into a corner and wrestled with the grief that had beset him. He could even see the fluttering hand that waved to him from the car window as the train took her and her brother away. Suddenly the door behind him opened and shut quickly, and quick steps caused him to drop his feet to the floor. He turned and found a visitor at his elbow. “Dan,” said the newcomer. “It’s aR yours. Jenkins just got a telegram that the K. and G. has decided to offer you the representation for this end of the state.” "That so?’ responded Pike aimlessly. “Of course its so, man J" replied the other, shaking him vigorously by the shoulder. "Wake up, can’t you? It’s worth fifteen thousand a year to you!” Pike turned quizzical dyes upon his friend and folded the letter be held in his hand. "Much obliged to you, Tom," he said. "I guess I’m kind of upset today.. Got a letter here that—jolted me a little. I’m thinking of going away for a spelt’’ “Going away!” ejaculated tys friend with wide eyes. “Golag away! WharoT’

anyway. And I’d like to see this man Hawcastle.” “Where does this Hawcastle live?” asked Perkins. “England. Got a house he calls Hawcastle Hall.” “What about the K. and G.Y’ asked Perkins suddenly. “I guess the K. and G. will have to wait awhile.” Perkins stood up resolutely and faced his friend. “There’s something wrong with you, Dan,” he said emphatically. "There’s something mighty wrong. It ain’t like you to go running off this way unless there’s something behind it” He stopped, for Pike was whistling softly to himself, whistling like the man who is striving to recall some tune that is only half forgotten. Then he turned to Perkins. “Remember that old tune, Tom,” he asked—“ ’Sweet Genevieve?’ ” “Get out!” snapped Perkins. "That’s a million years old. Why don’t you keep up to date if you’re going in for music? What do you care about ‘Sweet Genevieve,’ anyway?" “I used to know somebody that sang it— once—long ago," said Pike quietly. “I used to hear John Simpson whistle it years before he died and left all that money to me for those two kids. Tom"—he turned suddenly and transfixed his friend with an accusatory finger—“what would you think of a guardian that doesn’t guard r Perkins regarded him rebelllously. "Depends on whose guardian he is

and whether the guardees want him to attend to business or not. If you’re talking about those kids of John Simpson’s, Td say you’ve done about all you could be expected to. You’ve kept the money together, haven’t you? You’ve made it .grow. You’ve sent it along regular—over there. What more could any one want?” “Maybe that isn’t enough.” “When are those two coming home?” went on Perkins. “Why don’t they come back and spend John’s money where it was made—at home?” “I don’t believe they’re coming back right soon,” replied Pike. “Things

sort of seem to attract ’em over there. It must be a mighty fine place.” “Huh!” replied Perkins disgustedly. “What’s the matter with Kokomo? Why don’t that girl come back home and marry and settle down? Tell me that” Pike smiled queerly, and his head seemed to shrink into his shoulders a trifle as he thrust his hands into his pockets. “I guess she’s going to marry and settle down, Tom, all right” he said slowly. “From what I hear she’s going to marry one of those dukes or earls I was mentioning.” “Marry a foreigner!” cried Perkins, jumping to his feet. “Why, I thought she”— “Never mind what you thought, Tom,” returned Pike. “I’m telling you she’s going to be married. That’s why I guess she won’t be likely to come back to Kokomo. I guess Kokomo’s a pretty poor looking place after some of those other places she’s been seeing.” “How do you know?” asked Perkins, drawing his chair forward. Pike lifted the letter he had folded up. "I got this from her,” he said simply. “Want to know what’s in it?” “Yes,” answered Perkins. "I can’t let you read It, but it’s from a place in Italy—Sorrento,” he went on slowly, mouthing the unfamiliar word. “She says she’s going to marry the Hon. Almerlc St. Aubyn, heir to the ancient house of Hawcastle. And she wants to make a settlement on him. She can’t marry without toy consent, you know, Tom. If she does the money goes to the Kokomo Orphan asylum." “Going to give your consent?” Inquired Perkins.

“Don’t know," answered Pike. ‘Tve got to look the young man over first. I promised John Simpson I’d always look after her. That was when she was born. He said girls sometimes got into a tight place and they’d need some one to pull them out. Sounds good, doesn’t it, Tom? Hon. Almerlc St Aubyn. Must be a member of congress or something over there. Maybe he’ll be a senator some day. I can’t object, Tom, if he’s got a show to make a good living for her, can I? Say, what Is a settlement, anyway? You don’t suppose I’ve been keeping her short of money, do you, and she’s had to borrow?” Perkins shook his head gloomily. “Don’t ask me,” he said. “I don’t know anything about women. Why, Dan, I thought you’d mapped it out to marry’’— “That’ll do for that,” said Pike quickly. “We’ll not talk about that now, Tom. Suppose you go down to Archie Toombs and ask him about Sorrento and how to get there and when a fellow gets there after he starts. I’m going to write a letter to Jim Cooley and get him to hunt np this Hawcastle.” When Perkins had gone Pike pulled open the letter and read it once again. It was the most formal of notes, beginning “Dear Mr. Pike” and ending “Yours sincerely.” It contained a brief notice of the writer’s intentions, or, rather, intentions in the event of a certain contretemps that to her seemed inevitable, and trusted that the end would meet with his approval. He sighed as he folded It and returned it to its envelope. “And that ends the guardianship,”

he muttered. “Wonder what l'm going to do with the old bouse now?” From a drawer In his desk he pulled a framed picture that showed a delicately featured girl, with big, frank eyes and a wealth of light, curling hair that was half hidden by a big garden hat. There was a smile about the lips that seemed very engaging, and the muslin dress she wore had been accentuated in its simplicity by the art of the London photographer. Pike had preserved the picture, which had been given to him by old John Simpson the day before he died, and he sighed as he looked at it. Then he laid it face down upon the desk and dropped his chin into Ms hand. It may have been an hour that he sat there, and in that time never a thought of his legal business crossed bis mind. He was busy with a fanciful picture of an unknown city that in spite of his desire seemed to take on the aspects of a larger Kokomo, and in his fancy he could see a big, well knit young fellow bending eagerly over to look into the face of a girl, and he heard her call him Almeric. “Must be a mighty fine man,” he mused—“a fine big man—to capture her.” Then Perkins came in to ask if Pike wished to sail from New York for Havre in two days’ time, stating that it would be necessary to leave that night if Pike wished to take passage on her. “I’ll go, Tom,” he said. “Maybe you’ll drop in here once in awhile and tell folks that ask for me that I’ll be back in a month or so.” Then he sat down and wrote to Jim Cooley at London. At 8 that night he stepped aboard an eastbound train and the next afternoon was in New York. Sorrento seemed a long way off, and it was with a heavy heart that he walked up the gangplank of La Provence.

(To be Continued.)

“Show her to Dan."

“SHITS GOING TO MARRY THE HON. ALMERLC ST. AUBYN.”

Ethel tn a big garden hat.